It's Raining Cats and Dogs
by EyesSpy
Summary: The story/history behind Ciel's blue heirloom ring. This is still in beta and incomplete, but I will add on to it everyday.


"Prepare that child for the altar." A stout, short-statured man spat, pointing at one of the many children behind bars. The man's raiment was a crisp, black, suit. They say black is slimming, but that was not so in his case. "Our audience tonight loves the likes of boys with blonde hair and blue eyes." the child in particular was limp, head 'resting' against the bars.

At the notice of his orders, a tall muscular man clad in only a simple shirt and slacks went to one of the dog cages that lined every wall of the basement room. Upstairs was an old cathedral used for the rituals. All crosses were overturned.

"Wake up," the muscular man growled upon arriving to the little blonde boy's cage. Though it was cramped with one child alone, each cage held several children who were perfectly 'intact'. Imperfection was not tolerated; the intolerable were discarded. So it was not unusual for a child's 'roommate' to be changed regularly. This was, after all, a place for the forgotten and uncared for children. No one would miss them; no one would care. "It smells terrible in here!". Dirt. Grime. Blood. Disease. Rats. In-sanitation. These were the smells of the room that were amplified by the heavy rain. It was soothing, providing the children with the only temporary comfort that they could have.

"Hey!" the man yelled as he grabbed the paper thin child by his arms, shaking him back and fourth. He did so for a few minutes, causing the child the to bang his head against the bars a few times. But the child did not stir. He was resting eternally. "Dang. he's dead."

In response to this, some children whimpered. Some tried to hold back their tears. The ones who were far gone chased the coffin in their dreams. One little boy merely glared at the muscular man from behind the cage with his cruel azure eyes that pierced through the darkness of the poorly lit room.

" Who do you think your glaring at!?" The piggish noble Yelled. "Alright. we will use you instead, Little Azure." With that, The navy blue-haired boy with deep azure eyes, no older than the age of eight, was pulled out of his cage; Squirming and all. To 'subdue' him, he was cracked over the head. The little boy did not faint, he merely laid still as he was dragged by his waist length hair. It was smart to lay still. What could struggling do? He laid limp, but fully conscious as maids cleaned him in a large metal basin. They then dressed him in a sheer white toga.

If he had the power, he would run away. But then what? He was a child. What would he do on his own? If he had the power, He would kill all the adults here; even maids. He would then live a leisure life, but to accomplish that, he needed power. He knew his predicament well. He was going to be the sacrifice for an important ritual. His job was to to be the vessel and portal for the demon to arrive. So far, all of the other rituals were failures. He had heard the agonizing screams from up stairs. There had been so many failures; it was not likely for him to live. Little azure knew it. It was so unlikely for the demon to be summoned, until the adults upstairs in their ridiculous masquerade ball outfits, now just have rituals for lighthearted entertainment. They'd put in requests for the type they'd want to be sacrificed next. Occasionally, children were soiled before they died. The list of atrocities were endless. Everyone involved except for children deserved to **perish**. At least, that is what Azure thought. While he laid still like a doll, the mute maids combed his long, silky hair and cut his spit ends. Afterwards, they tucked his waist length bangs behind his ears. As calm as he would like to claim, he was truly terrified on the inside, complete contrast to his outer exterior. He was not staying still to avoid being hit a second time, but because of his fear paralysis. One of the maids then blindfolded him and carried him upstairs to the church.

Full moonlight shown into the room and was kaleidoscoped by the stained glass. Red, blue, purple and indigo lights, shone on the altar that had five pillars. It was a nerve-calming sight, ignoring the chains on the altar and the blood aqueducts that when blood ran off from the altar and onto the carved symbols on the ground, formed a complex pentacle within a magic circle. In the center of the room, leading up the altar was a red carpet going down the isle. On each side were pews full of a fully attentive audience. They did indeed pay for entrance, after all. Twenty pounds for each entry, Which was a grip in 1733. Upon arriving to the altar, the mute maid stripped the boy of his sheer toga, revealing his delicate porcelain pink skin. She un-blindfolded him. He was then spread on the altar and his arms and legs were chained. Shivers went down the boy's back as the maid left the room silently with a bow. Spectators looked at him with lustful and ravished eyes. He had felt sick to his stomach and wanted to scream at the tip top of his lungs. Fear and anger boiled so deep in him that tears dripped from his eyes and pattered against the alter and dripped onto the aqueduct. The boy was on an emotional roller coaster and his feelings altered between anger and despair. He wished that he could 'not' care anymore and that he could 'want' to chase the coffin in his dreams. But to his disappointment, he wanted desperately to live. He wanted to cling to anything to live.

A man adorned in a cloak and a dog mask slowly walked down the isle as people uttered reverse hymns. He carried a beautiful bejeweled dagger in his cloak.

"I will now present our fresh lamb to our great Satan." The man said. The words were announced, not said in a harsh tone. But they still managed to be acid dripping and unsteady feeling. Reverse hymns quickened and intensified. The dog masked man tightened his grip on the dagger, raised it towards the sky, candles that failed to provide proper lighting blew out. The little boy began to scream at the top of his lungs. The pain was unbearable though the dagger was yet to reach him. When it pierced him, he couldn't tell the difference. His imaginary pain matched the real. Searing pain, that began cold, caused by the cold dagger. It heated up rapidly, causing the boy's body to burn up as if it was on fire. His blood ran of and filled the symbols dug on the floor as the boy's thrashing began to huffs became more ragged and his lids began to flutter as a small chalice was filled with more of his blood. And placed on the podium, next to the altar. Gentle winds began to surge through the room, blowing the candles' light .

"Its working!" A man from the pew screamed over the now whistling winds. He was immediately silenced by a glare from behind. Winds began to quicken and pick up immense speed as peoples' hats, masks and hoods blew off of their faces. Crows had began to enter through shadowed windows. But the little boy didn't notice because he was experiencing his last few moments of life. He was going to bitterly bid this world farewell... until he heard the clacking of heels.

"My, my," a voice echoed thought the room as heel clacking got louder and hymns ceased as soon as the wind created a small twister in the center isle. From it a demon emerged. A grotesque looking beast with twisty horns, heels, fuchsia eyes and raven wings. The beast remained unseen and masked by the darkness. With that, the winds stopped. Everything stopped. Time stopped. Everything except for the boy and the demon. "It seems I have been summoned." he said.

"It seems so indeed." the boy coughed and stumbled his words. He was no longer trembling; no longer afraid. He felt hopelessness. It was foolish of him to believe that he would be free. But he still wanted it; desperately. He wanted the death of everyone here. He wanted to live. His thoughts were not quickly changing and spur of the moment, but deep-rooted and strong. He was dead, right? He wanted desperately to live. "Am i dead?" He was never one to believe in the afterlife. But everything was dark. the only thing with him was a demon, well, his voice.

"I assure you that you are not dead, nor in the afterlife." The beast answered cut-dryly. He just wanted to get this over with. It was not that time was of the essence, for he had billions . He was sure that this would be another soul that he would not get to dine on. Though he was almost immortal, he couldn't see into the future. "But, if i were to leave you alone, that would be the case." His voice was as deep, like an ocean. Smooth as butter. Tempting and mesmerizing like the devil he was. "Do you understand your predicament, boy?"

"I do." The boy said as a smile played on his lips. He _did_ understand his predicament. He was going to cheat death only to fall into a demon's clutches instead. He understood fully.

"Think care carefully. Should you reject the faith, even this once, the gates of paradise will forever be out of your reach. Do you still wish to forgo this forbidden path?"

"Yes." the boy said. "As I do not believe in the afterlife. I am not amongst the faithful. I want to live. Because when I die, I will rot"

"But the afterlife is indeed real." The demon mused

"Alright. Let me rephrase this. I do not care. I want to live. I do not want to die. And when I am done, cease to exist I shall. Place the mark of the beast upon me. I am ready."

"You seem to have your resolution. I understand," the demon chuckled. "So what is it that you wish?" he already knew. It was only formality to inquire.

"You are a demon," the boy went on. "You already know, what I wish for. Why save the breath?"

" I understand." The demon finally said while listening to the boy's thoughts. " But, _are you sure_?"

"I AM. Now, just do as I say, as my subordinate." The little boy replied.

" Humph. You remind me of the cat." The demon simply stated. "How fickle you are. But, I can't help but adore them." He snickered. The chalice on the podium had fallen, Spilling tasteful blood on the ground.

"What was that for?" The boy inquired. He had heard that demons not only ate souls, but had consumed the blood and flesh also. His mother would tell him the same story every night, of a handsome man who had made a deal with the devil and in return, was eaten whole. She told him the unfortunate man was his father. She said; "To a demon, blood is like fine wine. It is full of life and therefore tasty." But at the same time, It was presumptous to believe an old fiend who sold off her son to pay her taxes.

"I am a demon, not a vampire." The beast simply replied. He was a demon, not a fairy-tale beast that prowled around at night looking for prey like an animal. "Though," he admitted. " I could be likened to one."


End file.
